


All in the Timing

by Vakarian_Marian



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Forest of Dean (Harry Potter), M/M, Pre-Slash, Wizarding Wars (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:09:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26075440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vakarian_Marian/pseuds/Vakarian_Marian
Summary: Ron is fifteen minutes late to the Forest of Dean, and Severus must step in.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Severus Snape
Comments: 2
Kudos: 100





	All in the Timing

_ Severus watches as Potter ambles into sight, following the doe like an absolute imbecile. Surely not a single thought given to the possible danger of following an unknown patronus. Severus knows him this well at least. His eyes aren't what they once were, but as Potter approaches the pond, a gleam of light appears against his neck, standing out against the darkness of the forest.  _

_ Idiot, Severus thinks, he's  _ wearing _ the bloody thing. He thinks surely even Potter isn't so thick as to submerge himself in water with an object of dark magic wrapped around his windpipe. And yet...Potter undresses and approaches the pool, but does not remove the necklace. Before Severus can even consider what the implications, Potter jumps.  _

_ A minute passes. Another. Certainly even the Boy Who Lived needed oxygen in order to do so.  _

_Severus curses as he runs. He reaches the pool, removes his shirt, lays flush against the frozen ground and sinks his arm into the icy water._

* * *

  


Harry looks up and learns suddenly that he is dreaming. Severus Snape is a thin strip of life against the trees, black trousers clinging awkwardly to his legs, chest bare as he tilts his head and wrings water out of his hair, his movements shortened by the shirt he has balled and tucked under one arm. 

Harry watches and wonders if he is still in the water, if he is dying. Dead perhaps. Snape gives his head a final shake and quickly throws his shirt around him, though does not button it before bending down to pick up something. It is only when he sees the flash of silver in Snape’s hands that Harry touches his empty neck and yells, “Stop!” 

Snape turns and Harry sees the sword of Gryffindor in his other hand. Snape stills, his face blank. He drops both arms and lets both the locket and sword fall. He steps back, widening the distance between them, hands at his sides. 

Harry finds the strength to get up, is planning to take the sword and run the bastard through. His legs are weak and his chest feels caved in. He instinctively pulls his arms into this chest and finds he is wrapped in something heavy, is otherwise naked except for socks. He wriggles his barely-there toes. His head is very cold.

Snape does nothing. Does not move. 

Harry looks back toward the small pool; considers the fact of his sitting on dry land despite a fuzzy but reliable memory of fading out of consciousness. “It was you?” Harry asks. 

“As you see,” Snape says in a tight voice. 

Harry feels paralyzed but knows through his fog that Hermione has charmed these woods so that apparition, if attempted, is extremely risky. Snape is not leaving easily, but then nor did he arrive easily either. 

Harry yanks his still wet legs into his pants, almost hitting himself in the face as one hand loses its grip and flies up. 

Snape makes a noise. 

Harry finds his shirt on the ground, wand wrapped underneath. Gratefully tucking the latter into his back pocket, he then frowns down at the dirt and moisture covering his shirt. He jumps as a dark shape falls at his feet. 

“The fuck…” he starts, until he sees it’s just a black sweater. “Jesus Christ,” he says as he reluctantly pulls it over his head. He cannot think until he is warmer. 

Snape coughs meaningfully. Harry tries to toss the cloak he had woken up wearing. It doesn’t make it half-way between them. 

Snape gestures at the bundle. “I’m going to move forward.” 

“I’m going to kill you,” Harry responds, increasing body temperature helping his brain restart. 

“I doubt it.” 

Harry runs at Snape and pushes him to the ground, grabs for purchase at his neck, both hands shaking. His own skin is still pale with cold but is practically red compared with Snape’s translucent skin. Harry grips his legs on either side of Snape’s chest and presses his thumbs over the man’s throat, forcing his head back. 

Snape’s shirt is still undone and his chest is skin and bones. He isn’t fighting, has his eyes closed. A sound to Harry’s right just as Snape opens his eyes. Harry lets his grip up slightly as he turns and sees the doe, kicking gently against the earth. Harry recalls the sense of peace he felt on seeing her, the certainty that she would help him. 

Harry screams. 

He screams until there is no more sound, his hands shaking Snape’s neck even as he loosens his grip. He lets go completely and feels Snape’s chest rise against him as he sucks in a deep breath. 

Harry puts his hands over Snape’s chest and shoves harder than he needs in order to push himself up to standing. 

Snape stays on the ground, looks at the doe and then back at Harry. 

“I know, I fucking know, ok?” Harry chokes out. 

Snape closes his eyes and the doe flickers and then is gone. Harry misses her. 

It takes Snape longer to stand and while he is doing so Harry moves back and picks up both the locket and sword, finally knowing he has the strength to wield it, but also knowing he won’t. 

Harry holds the locket. 

“Don’t put it on,” Snape says. 

Harry scoffs and twists the locket string around his wrist like a bracelet. 

He pulls the sword fully into his hands. “Why shouldn’t I just kill you?” He asks. 

Snape ignores this. “You can destroy the horcrux with the sword. Any horcrux. But not here, not yet. Have Granger do it.” 

“What do you know about fucking horcruxes?” 

Snape ignores him again. “It doesn’t want to die, it will fight you with the worst parts of yourself, it’ll…”

“SHUT UP, SHUT UP!” Harry falls to his knees, punches the ground until his hands are caked with blood and dirt. 

He yanks the locket from his wrist, noticing his forearm as he does so. There are multiple small, crescent shaped holes in his skin. A handprint bruise, each finger sweeping its own distinct path across his skin. 

He opens the locket, ignores Snape’s cry and stands with the sword gripped in both hands. He lifts the hilt up to his chest and aims. 

Lily Potter swims into focus in front of him. “Stab it!” Snape shouts from nearby. 

“Don’t come near me!” Harry yells while not moving his eyes from his mother. She is out of focus but beautiful. “It’s all your fault, Harry,” she says, as calm as a lullaby. “You’re the reason we’re all dead. You cost us the rest of our lives.” 

Harry stumbles. 

Lily swirls into Sirius who tells him he is nothing compared with his father, “I never really liked you, only wished you were him.” Sirius becomes Lupin who tells him he is useless and scared, Lupin becomes Hermione who tells him he is an idiot, becomes Ron who tells him he is a horrible friend, becomes Cedric who repeats that everything,  _ everything,  _ is his fault.

Cedric disappears as Snape comes into view and grabs the locket. He takes the sword and Harry does not resist. Snape hasn’t even gotten his grip before Lily is back, this time telling Snape he is disgusting, a loser, a nobody. Snape shakes as Dumbledore tells him he is a coward, meant for nothing but death. 

Harry cannot move. 

Dumbledore is replaced by a dingy man who says “Hitting you was the best thing I ever did. You never learned.” A string of people Harry doesn’t recognize spew insults, “sick”, “gross”, “greasy”, “queer,” and then Harry himself appears, clearly dead, scar outlined on a bloody forehead. 

A wail as the sword pieces the locket, Snape half gagging, leaning his full weight into it. The locket sputters, cries, and finally stills. 

Harry feels a weight shift, feels almost unbearably light, as if at any moment he would float upwards. Snape has fallen to his knees and is leaning over them, head almost touching the ground. 

The moment Harry moves, Snape screams, “Don’t fucking touch me, Potter!” as he starts to scramble back. Harry thinks Snape must be reading a part of his mind he doesn’t have access to, as he has gotten up without a clear thought in his head beyond relief. 

Snape frantically stands and starts doing up his buttons, flinging his hair out of his face in an attempt to keep an eye on Harry. As Harry starts to move again, Snape screams, “I’ll kill you!” 

“I doubt it,” says Harry, feeling slightly more charitable after the destruction of the horcrux. “Why did you save me?” 

“I told you to wait for Granger. You were too _weak_ ,” Snape starts. 

“No,” Harry says. “Before. In the pool.” 

“You forgot to take the goddamn locket off. Anyone would have drowned.” 

Harry realizes he is not asking about the pool, into which he never would have gone unless it had been for the sword that Snape brought for him. The sword that Snape used to destroy a horcrux. Snape who did not want Harry to know of his involvement. 

“Did you mean to give up my parents?” The question is out before he's aware of its formation. 

“No.” 

“Did you mean to kill Dumbledore?” He does not know why he asks it like this, as if  _ Avada Kedavra  _ could be unintentional. 

“Yes.” Snape sneers. 

Harry thinks. “Did he ask you to?” 

Snape is silent. 

Harry’s curiosity fuels him and he knows Snape would never think him capable, so he wordlessly casts himself into Snape’s mind, only to be pushed back with a force like a brick wall. A pause and then his own open mind is filled with images. They are carefully chosen, they are so precise as to be devoid of all detail:  _ Lily and Snape, Snape and Dumbledore, Lily again, Dumbledore saying you must be the one to kill me _ , the memory so bare they might have been having the conversation in the middle of the ocean. Harry focuses on the red of Dumbledore’s robes and  _ pulls.  _

_ Dumbeldore says that Harry must die, Snape slaps him, screams. Snape warning Dumbeldore about Quirrell, the chamber, the tournament, “You’re putting him at risk!”  _ The memories lose their shape and Harry sees a hundred small things he can’t put into any context. Snape is ready this time when Harry tries to grab on, and slams him back.

Harry comes to, having fallen to the ground. 

Snape has wrapped himself in his cloak, hands clenched in tight fists across his chest. He turns and walks away from Harry. 

Harry feels an ache in his chest. “I’ll have Hermione release the wards in…” he tries to calculate the time it will take him to get back, but Snape turns at his words. 

“You will not anyone  _ anything,  _ and you certainly won’t lift any of the wards.” 

Harry persists, “Just for a minute so you can leave. You’ll feel it when it lifts, won’t you? I know I…” 

“No!” Snape yells. 

“Yes! Christ, you tell me you’re helping me and I can’t do one thing.” 

“I didn’t tell you anything! I did not plan-” 

“Well now I know, and I can trust Her-” 

“You cannot trust anyone, you complete imbecile! No one.” 

“But I can trust  _ you,  _ right? The savior’s savior.” Harry scoffs. 

“No!” Snape screams, but his voice crack and Harry thinks he is being lied to. “The sword will kill every horcrux. The rest, you’ll do.” 

“Unsuccessfully, apparently.” Harry thinks of Snape slapping Dumbledore.  _ The boy must die.  _ He had known, of course he had. There is almost relief in the confirmation. 

“Feeling sorry for yourself?” Snape chides. 

“You would know! All  _ this,”  _ Harry gestures to himself and sword and locket behind him, “and I’m still going to die. All this for a lost cause.” 

“Fine,” Snape says sharply. “You can roll over and die now, for all that I-” Snape tilts his head, closing his eyes briefly. Harry feels it too, the sensation of the wards lifting, the openness. 

“Goodbye, Potter.” Snape turns and is gone with a crack. 

“No!” Harry grabs out, fingers stretching and dancing towards nothing. 

He is alone. 

  
  



End file.
